Bifrost by Dave Shortt

how long will it stay? remember,

it was here before

if the colors are distinct, utopian concepts

breaking not at the zenith but only

at the earth:

they reveal themselves

for as long as it takes Sól

to reorientate the wavelengths

somewhere a river is flooding,

making it difficult to point it out up there

to someone who's still looking at the ground,

whose inner dams

then get tested

it changes as soon as the eyes

divert

at last vanity realizes it's still a child,

as if nature were a storybook

but the gods & goddesses

are riding horseback

to & fro sidestepping reflection

full rein into diffraction,

forward!

blurred into water &

light, what other route

could they have chosen?

the missing parts

are family passed on

to other parts,

& as they travel

whatever person watching

is a color thicker

than the promise of the meeting place

soon it's forgotten again, dissolving

while the 2 swans of Destiny

begin their long flight south,

where Noah is waiting

at the end of one white sight line

in winter it lies shattered

in the snow,

a blinding connection

blanketing the dormant earth,

while at the end of the world

the cold of Ragnarok prepares

each rivet-like molecule of ice

to uphold some other crossing

trapped under this retinal arcade,

people are either solemnly descended on

by their prosperity, or

becoming a communication among elves,

they're quickly led, after a scientific preface,

to take another step into the sky